Whore
by Digital Tempest
Summary: [Standalone] Do you think I'm a whore? Stacy isn't very happy about being labeled a 'whore'. She reflects on what makes her any worse than anyone else.


title: Whore

author: Tempest

email: tempest@thatbitch.com

disclaimer: I don't own any persons or personas recognizable from the WWFE. They are owned by Vince McMahon and Titan Sports. I also do not own the rights to the song 'Do You Think I'm A Whore' by Kittie. This is solely for entertainment purposes, no money is being made off this. No copyright infringement intended.

author's notes: Why do I always feel sorry for the characters I loathe? All characters are in character.

*

_//The knife is on the table  
I put myself to sleep   
All I know is all I know  
Remember what you sow is what you reap//_

Stacy groaned to herself as the eyes followed her down the hallway. She saw the hands fly up to their faces. They were whispering about her behind their hands. She didn't have to hear them to know what they were saying about her. It was all too clear from the way they rolled their eyes when she passed by, and they way they tittered after her when she left the restroom. 

Whore. 

Why didn't someone just write it on her forehead in permanent marker? She tried to ignore it as she walked with D'Von and Bubba Ray down the hallway towards their dressing room, but it ate her up inside to think that she was considered nothing more than a quick fuck by everyone in the WWF. The truth was she hadn't slept with anyone she worked with. She was just doing what Shane had wanted her to do, at first.

//Why can't I fucking believe you?   
This isn't what's for me   
A little sheltered girl  
Is what I'll always be //

She accompanied Shane down to the ring to pose as a distraction to the manbeast, Rhyno. Shane told her all she had to do was walk down there and flirt a little. No big deal, right? She would go down there and help Test to win by using her looks. Shane said she would be respected. She wouldn't be considered trash. She would be applauded for her valiant efforts. After all was said and done, the crowd used one word to describe her. 

Whore.

She was the slut with the long legs, who could step over the second rope with no problems. No one understood it was her job to be the person they saw come walking to the ring. There was little else she could really do. Would they rather she just come down to the ring and stand and look lost? Because that's how she felt when she walked down there. She felt lost and scared. They told her to go down there and 'look pretty'. That's all she had to do.

_//Self-loathing, inconsiderate  
Too scared of what I'll be  
I look into the mirror   
The whore is all I see//_

She pretended to be happy because she thought that one day she would believe it. She hated looking at herself in the mirror most days. It was only a reminder what she had become in the eyes of the people. She wasn't a person anymore. She was less than a person. She wasn't treated any better than a dog. Come here, bitch. Sit, stay, fetch. Now, roll over. Beg. That's right be a good

Whore. 

She knew she was being used. She was nothing more that an object for the people to gawk at. She was there for the men to catcall and the women to hate. They forgot that she had feelings, too. Sometimes she wanted to scream, "Don't always believe what you see." But she knew they would only laugh at her, and say, "That stupid slut. She wants us to take her seriously."

_//Like you  
Like me  
Diminished, self-employed  
I'll never see//_

Then there were the rumors about her and Matt Hardy. She wasn't interested in Matt Hardy. She only teased him cause they made her. They told her to flirt with him to cause trouble. She had never slept with him, and she didn't intend to. She could tell from the way Lita's eyes flashed at her what she thought of her. Lita didn't have to say it, but she had many times during matches. Lita's lips formed over the word as if she were about to explain Godel's theorem.

Whore.

Truth was, she had more than a little crush on Rob Van Dam. She would never tell him or anyone else that. He would never be interested in a girl like her. She was just a plaything, she wasn't a real woman. She was suppose to make men's fantasies come true. She wasn't suppose to be taken seriously. She was just another dumb blonde. 

  
_//Like you  
Like me  
I never want   
To be like me //_

Torrie got more respect than she did, and Torrie was really a whore. She followed the men around with puppy dog eyes just wanting one chance to prove herself. She was respected because she was 'with' Tajiri. It burned Stacey up, but as Torrie told her once before "It's strictly business." The women accepted Torrie with open arms, and then they all talked about Stacy. The long-legged

Whore.

It hurt worse when women called her a whore. She would think that women would be more sympathetic to her because at one point and time they all had to pretend. Women were more vicious than the men, though. They used the word that was meant to demean women in general to hurt each other, to make themselves feel better. They way it was tossed around, you would think it was her name. She didn't even try anymore. She tried to live up to her new name with the exception of sleeping around. She couldn't stomach the idea of sleeping with so many men. Why weren't they whores? Why were they considere heroes when they fucked the backstage slut?

_//Do you think I'm a whore?   
I'm a whore//_

She looked at herself in the mirror as she touched up her make-up, trying to see what features she had that made her such a slut. She didn't see anything different from any other woman. The tears stung her eyes, threatening to spill over. She looked at heself sadly. It was time to go put on a show for everyone. It was time for her to be that

"Whore." She said aloud to herself.

-fin


End file.
